


Down the Rabbit Hole Affair

by Redd2



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redd2/pseuds/Redd2
Summary: It’s the year 2020, and someone has just fallen down the rabbit’s hole. 😊
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Down the Rabbit Hole Affair

_One pill makes you stronger and one pill makes you small.  
And the ones that mother gives you don’t do anything at all.  
Go ask Alice when she’s ten feet tall.  
And if you go chasing rabbits and you know you’re going to fall,  
Tell ‘em on Hookah, the smoking caterpillar, has given you the call.  
He called Alice when she was just small.  
When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go,  
And you just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving, whoa-oh  
Tell Alice, I think she’ll know.  
When logic and proportion have fallen far-be dead,  
And the White Knight is talking backwards and the Red King’s lost his head.  
Remember what the dormouse said,  
‘Keep your head. Keep your head.’  
_

_(paraphrased from Jefferson Airplane)_

\- With a nod to Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland

A lone cricket sang its song into the warm day in the search for the perfect partner. The windswept hills of county Italy alas have no answer as yet.  
As far as one can see, the land stretched with waves of uncut wheat. Olive tree fields canvased the gentle hills as they have for centuries. A couple of English tourists on bike traveled along the narrow road at a good clip, on a schedule you see.

“William” calls out the woman.  
The man does not halt his pursuit of the next turn, “What?”  
The woman is insistent as she pulls off the road, “William!”  
After not hearing more response, the man pulls up short and looks back, “What?”  
Her accent is British with a hint of frustration, “I think I have a puncture.”  
William raises his eyes to the sky in supplication, and turns around to meet his fate and his beautiful partner. “  


As he approaches, she sighs and throws her hand up in quick defeat, “So typical. No shops in sight.”  
In traditional British efficiency, William bends down and does his due diligence on the front tire. “Confirmed. It’s flat.”  
The casual pants and peasant blouse of the woman, Clara, is helpful in the heat of the day. But William’s stubborn choice of old fashion knickerbocker bike pants and tweed jacket are too much.  


William’s mobile phone was not receiving a signal, “Dash it, nothing.” Together they unfold a last-minute grabbed paper map and tried to trace their location.  
“Here,” the woman pointed to a listed town. “Soragna.”  
They both looked up and were stunned at the lack of any sign of civilization, let alone a town.

After a time, they came across by chance a small tumbledown farmhouse. The outside yard a shambles of old farm tools and carts. The building in grave disrepair, the second floor of the building almost gone from years of neglect and age. With no other buildings within eyesight, the couple approached. William parked his bike next to a cart and left Cara to fend for herself as he looked around. Women are so capable; he would have said.  
Softly, they began to hear music. “Creepy. Do you hear it?”  
“Yes,” Clara answered, a small smile played about her lips. “You go first though.”

* * * * *

William took one last look at the vast empty countryside behind them and knew there was no other choice. Cautiously, they approached an old withered wood door and knocked, not having much faith to be answered. The strings and woodwinds of the music reached through the walls of the building, beckoning. One could recognize the piece as _Vaughn Williams’ Fantasia._  
Magnificent in its crescendo. The man, William, pushed at the door and it gave to his touch.  
“Curiouser and curiouser,” William whispered, to coin a phrase from his childhood.

As they entered together trembling with curiosity, and trepidation, the music enveloped them as did the scene before them. A room of immense width and breath, of marvelous murals on the walls, featuring some of the most important baroque frescoes in northern Italy. The room shone of light, and beauty, and luxury. The ceiling rose to a height of what must be 15 feet, yet how was that possible. A fantasy, a dream.  
Only after, did they notice a man seated at a massive table set back in the room. The table was laid as if for a royal. A waiter of some sort was carefully pouring wine and deferring to the gentleman seated. The seated man took great care to eye the glass and sniff the contents before taking a testing sip. _“Ottimo_ (Excellent)” he said in Italian. _“Felix, apparecchiare la tavola per gli ospiti._ (Felix, have the table set for our guests).” The couple, who understood some Italian, glanced at each other.  


Felix bowed respectfully and stepped back. He was dressed complete with military waistcoat, precision detail, and total attentiveness. Hair the color of sun brightened straw. Only after the waiter left the room did the man acknowledge the couple.  
_“Benvenuto”_ he called to them. Then he quickly switched to English, somehow knowing who they were without them saying a word. “There you are. You’re late you know.”  
From somewhere in his clothes the man brought forth an old fashion pocket watch and he smiled with great charm. “Why no wonder, my watch is exactly two days slow.”  


The host was of a certain older age but most definitely in fit condition as he moved with grace as he rose from the table. Not tall but square shoulders, fit body, and dark hair tipping the edge of grey. He was dressed in a most becoming regal suit of fine dark navy, exceptionally tailored to fit his body to perfection.  
_“Buongiorno.”_ William hesitated. “Er excuse us. We are lost.” They had yet to enter fully into the room, not trusting their eyes at the marvel.  
“Don’t worry. It happens to everyone.”

The man moved to greet them with old world graciousness. With a natural charm, he made his way slowly across the room towards them. “Ours is a world of surprises. This place, it attracts people. It seems to make them arrive in all sorts of different ways and in moments of need. A broken-down car, a punctured bicycle tire, and so forth.” Clara’s hand tightened on William’s – how did anyone know it was their bike tire?  


The host continued unchanged “Once a Russian fellow even fell from the sky with a parachute.” He smiled, “He told us he had taken the wrong current.” The couple slowly relaxed at the easy manner of their host but was it them or did he not make sense. “The Russian stayed here four days before taking off again.” The man’s hand waved up to the sky and his small mischievous grin did much to relieve William and Clara. “He did not want to leave it seemed,” the man mused in remembrance, “so he came back – I call him Felix for now.”  
William made a small start at this news and pulled Clara closer.  


“Oh, excuse me,” the host glanced back to them, as if pulled back to the moment. “Please come, sit. I am in charge of this little monarchy. You may call me ‘King Napoleon’,” and he gave a small chuckle as if a little joke had been said.  
Surprised Clara noticed the table was already re-set for three people. The attention to glassware and silver was overwhelming, and how it was done while they listened to the story was beyond her understanding. Felix suddenly appeared and handsomely pulled out a gilded chair for Clara at one end of the table, waiting at attention for her approach. 

The host spoke to his manservant – “Is it done yet?”  
Felix just slightly shook his head to the negative.  
“Oh, very well …”

As William moved hesitantly to the other chair at the other end, Felix was easily there to pull out his chair. Only when both were seated, did their host re-take his chair in the middle. At that same moment, as if by cue, both side doors opened and a parade of waiters, dressed similarly to Felix, entered with plates, and trays, and more glassware. Their gloved hands moved with military precision and grace that spoke of good training. The room took on a festive air. The music from where-ever, changed to _Vivaldi; Four Seasons, Spring_ as if in celebration. The light shown softer with the sound of coming spring in the harmonies, the room breathed in time with the new piece. 

William became increasingly uncomfortable with his choice of dress, or too casual dress. He wiggled in embarrassment. Clara noticed and winced for him in understanding. Their host noticed, easily guessing the reason for William’s discomfort.  
“Don’t worry, William. Felix will take care of you.”  
William glanced up and caught Felix’s wink of understanding and confidence. No one questioned how their host knew William’s name. 

* * * * *

Felix motioned for William to join him at a grand set of double doors that the couple hadn’t noticed before. The doors were opened to a majestic long hall, the length must have gone for several cricket fields. Candles lite the way in old world fashion yet no candle smell. The walls shown like a never-ending canvas of 13th century inlaid woodwork. It quite took one’s breath away. This was the situation with William as he and Felix began their dream journey.  
There were countless doors on each side of the hall, all appearing exactly like the previous one. Felix stopped before one, although why he picked that one out of all the others was a mystery to William.  


“Let’s try this one, shall we?” a small smile broke up his solemn face, his accent sounded very upper Cambridge. The door was cracked open and a large “Roooarrr” came at them like a physical force. Felix quickly closed the door, “Oh dear. No, not that one.”  


“How on earth are we to find the right door when none of them are labeled?!” cried William. “This is impossible!”  
“Why sometimes, I dwell on as many as 6 impossible things before breakfast.”  
Looking back down the way they had come, William saw infinite unmarked doors. He looked at the way they were headed and was greatly dismayed that the picture was exactly the same. There was nothing but for William to follow the man and do the impossible.

* * * * *

The host conveyed an invitation to Clara to experience the adjoining Aviary where many of their herbs and vegetables were grown, he told. Not to be outdone, another grand doorway appeared behind her, and, as he graciously helped her with her chair, he offered his arm. She smiled at the consideration and noticed his arm was substantial and easy to lean upon, more athletic than she imagined. However, the appearance of an ‘Aviary’ where none had been before, made her very nervous.  
“Don’t worry about William,” the King went on untroubled. “Felix is mad, bonkers if you will, completely out of his head. But I’ll tell you a secret. All the best people are, don’t you know.”  
_‘He just might have a point,’_ thought Clara.  


The glass surrounding room was filled with gentle light and the sky above was open and bright. Clara could not be mistaken that the air around her was suddenly filled with the brilliance of _Debussy. Clar de Lune,_ if she was not mistaken.  
In the center stood an old English Oak tree, as beautiful as she had ever seen, and surly not native to this area. The branches spread out to each wall, as if a question which came first – the room or the tree. Upon the rows of garden boxes were lovely sweet Basil, lush cucumber, aromatic garlic. All aroma and smells of lavishly healthy plants. 

* * * * *

“Ah this is the right door. Of course, how silly of me.” And with a flourish Felix whooshed open a new door. Inside, William could hardly take it in. Before him was a huge walk-in closet with rows and rows of suits of every color and style. The servant stopped and deliberated. Then he turned his intense blue eyes to William, giving him a good once over.  
“What?” asked William pulling at his ill-shaped clothes.  
“Is this who you really are?”  
“Well I hardly know at present. We were on a bike ride you see. And I wanted to make an impression on Clara. She doesn’t seem to be too keen on me these days.”  
“Exactly my point. I have just the thing.” 

Felix pulled down an impeccably tailored midnight blue suit and offered it across his arm in the gracious way of a majestic gift. Marvelously an exact fit, like a second skin. The material soft as butter.  
“Amazing! May I say you are the strangest man I’ve ever met. Are you sure you’re a butler?”  
“Hmm. Well I knew who I was this morning but I’ve changed a few times since then.”  


“I wonder,” William tentatively thought, “if this could be a change for me, for us. You know, a gift of sorts.”  
Felix, his is back to William as he carefully removed the suit pieces from the rods, advised “Actually, the best gift you could have given her would be a lifetime of adventures”.  
William paused in puzzlement as he thought the words over. “I say. I wonder … “  
“Come on then or we shall be late.”  
“Yes. Of course. Er … late for what?” Nevertheless, William quickly changed his clothes.

* * * * *

Clara suddenly burst out crying. “There, there my dear. What seems to be the trouble?”  
“Oh, William is such a dunce, he never notices me. Not the real me. And my life! Well it is going nowhere isn’t it.”  
The royal gentleman offered her his linen handkerchief to dry up the waterworks.  
She thanked him and hiccupped. She gave him the sad puppy look, “I haven’t lost it, have I?” asked Clara.  
The King seemed to deliberate and then gave her the truth. “You must have lost it, my dear, or you wouldn’t have come here.”

* * * * *

Soon the two found themselves inexplicitly back in the Grand Hall, although perhaps no longer on the ground floor. The table still set as if they had just left it. Clara looked over at the double doors just as Felix opened them with a flourish and revealed William. Her William entered, with life and energy that she hadn’t seen in some time. She could hardly take her eyes off him and was astonished at the transformation.  
“William … ?”  


Her companion stood all the taller as he took in Clara’s amazement.  
“Why you look so, so … ,“ she was at a loss for words.  
As Felix again sat her in her chair, he whispered in her ear, “Dependable?”  
“No, oh no that is not it. You look like ‘possibilities’,” she stated with a certain twinkle in her eye not seen in ages. It certainly caught William up. He almost missed the chair Felix held out for him.  
“Now children,” the King announced. “Eat.”

The great hall, now on the third floor, had taken on lavish proportions. Played softly in the background, _Chopin Nocturnes,_ with pianist Brigitte Engerer. The melody, the flow of tones beautifully went along with the wine selections and each dish that was served. It was midnight outside the windows and through the tops of a forest, the moon rose high.  


“Ahh Felix! Mushrooms! You’ve outdone yourself!”  
Felix did a slow bow of great admiration.  
“Absolutely Felix, a magnificent meal,” added William. “And a toast to our gracious host. May many travelers be as rewarded as we are when getting ourselves lost.” Then blushing William turned. “And to my lovely Clara, who makes getting lost one of life’s surprising pleasures.”  
“But it is crazy, William. The change I see in you. It’s mad!”  


“We’re all a bit mad here of course.” said the King. William was purely busting with renewed pride.  
As daylight entered again through the windows, the King checked his watch. “Oh my ears and whiskers, how early it is getting. Be off with you Felix.”  
The King turned to his guests, “Mustn’t neglect our mission now should we.” Neither guest noticed the odd way in which Felix was no longer present as they finished up the meal.

Clara thought out loud, ‘Oh how I’d love to run away from normal days. I want to run wild with my imagination. Have an adventure.”  
“Actually,” put forth William, “the best gift I want to give you would be a lifetime of adventures” boldly borrowing a Felix phrase.  
Now it was Clara who glowed with pleasure.

The guests came down the sweeping grand staircase to the floor below, the host graciously leading the way. There was no surprise or question when the lobby swelled with music of the Italian Opera _Con te Partiro_ performed by Bocelli. The sadness, the promise of good-byes coming through in the magnificent vocalization of the mood.  


At the old wooden door, William turned back to his benefactor with a belated thought, “Just tell me the way to go and we’ll be on our way.”  
Seeing them out, the King replied, “If you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there.”  


This made perfect sense to William. Funny. Earlier this morning he would have thought this perfect gibberish. He led the beautiful Clara over to her bike, the tire wonderfully inflated. He carefully lifted her onto her seat and, ignoring his own vehicle, walked beside her. Her eyes never left her Lancelot.

* * * * *

Felix, or his Illya, entered from the window on the third story of the building. He stepped on the ledge and walked through the open window, a briefcase on his arm as if he had just returned from Oxford Street, London. And maybe he had.  


“Success?”  
“Success.”  


“All right everyone.” Napoleon immediately called out to the house at large. “Pack everything up, we’re closing up shop. Mind, nothing gets left behind.”  
Instantly the buffered noise of several floors of equipment, files, and agents of the U.N.C.L.E. could be heard moving about. Communications black-out equipment, Laser camouflage imagery, pharmacology labs for wandering locals and lost tourists. Area surveillance outposts strategically placed in the fields and hillside. All for the sake of a successful information gathering mission and continued secrecy of operations within Italy.

Illya deftly grabbed a chair before one of the crew could abscond with it. “Napoleon, would you like another adventure or shall we have tea first?”  
“Oh I think a nice cuppa would do me,” he replied as he commandeered the last remaining chair.  


And, of course the tea set was just there, hot and already steeped to perfection.  
“Any trouble?” He handed a hot cup to his partner.  
Illya took a sip, “Not since we broke through their data protection firewalls. No casualties.”  
“Ahh. This is the way ‘field work’ should be done.”  
“I agree. But next time I’m King and you are Felix.”  
“Oh but you do it so well Illya.” Napoleon paused, “The midnight blue suit was the better choice.”  
“The black would have been just as trend setting.”  
“Not with her.”  
“Possibly not.”

Napoleon lifted his cup in a toast, “To imagination. The only weapon in the war against reality.”  
Illya leaned back in his chair and lifted his cup. A small smile played at his lips, as he and his partner disappeared along the soft summer breeze.  
His words left among the ruins, “Hear, hear. And not easy to run out of ammunition.” 

* * * * *

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments are most appreciated
> 
> For your pleasure, the links to the music scores that played such a crucial part in this story ….  
> Vaughn Williams’ Fantasia - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihx5LCF1yJY  
> Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Spring - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3nSvIiBNFo  
> Debussy’s Clar de Lune - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ea2WoUtbzuw  
> Chopin Nocturnes, with pianist Brigitte Engerer - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WU8_upVBnT4  
> Italian Opera Con te Partiro performed by Bocelli - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdWEhMOrRpQ


End file.
